“Cowards!” yelled Kordus as the bikes flew over his head and back toward the city. He looked at Kuhlik with a glint in his eyes. “Major, I want the top of that hill blasted off the face of this damned rock.”
“Sir, I can’t reach our mortars, and the ships have a finite amount of ammunition left in their arsenals.”
“Major, I don’t give a damn. Do as you’re told, or I’ll have you replaced.”
“It will be done, sir,” replied Kuhlik, reaching for his radio handset.
“Wave them back to the ruins,” said Sheridan to Kyrran.
Kyrran, hidden among the trees, knelt so he could be seen. He brought his spear up and waved it toward the ruins. The warriors who had ambushed the hoverbike teams acknowledged the order, sprinted up the hill, and rushed to take refuge inside the fortifications they’d built among the ruins of the old settlement.
“Here they come,” said Sheridan as dozens of missiles streaked down from the sky and struck the hill. The ruins disappeared behind a wall of flame. The ground shook like an earthquake as the rockets blasted the hill. Large chunks of dirt and rocks flew skyward.
Although several hundred meters from the impact zone, Sheridan could feel each explosion reverberate in his chest and his head. It reminded him of the first time he tried boxing in the academy. No sooner had he entered the ring when his bigger and stronger opponent struck, mercilessly pounding him into submission. Dozens of shaken young warriors threw their spears to the ground and fled into the jungle.
A minute after it started, the last missile struck the ground near an old house, knocking it down into a pile of rubble.
Sheridan raised his head and looked at the hill. A thick cloud of dust hung over the ruins. He doubted that many of the warriors who had taken cover among the buildings could have survived such a sustained bombardment. From the first day Sheridan entered the military, it was stressed to him that hope is never an option, but he held out hope that some of the warriors were still alive.
“They’re not moving,” reported Katin, watching Kobak’s men at the end of the valley.
“They will,” replied Sheridan.
“What if they decide to outflank us?”
“They won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Sheridan grinned. “Because we’re going to chum the waters for them.”
Katin shook her head. “Major, I don’t understand what you’re trying to say.”
“Have your brother come here.”
Katin looked over her shoulder and waved at her brother and Tarina.
Sheridan handed Kobak a radio he had taken from one of the dead hoverbike troopers. “Okay, you’re on. Say exactly what we rehearsed into this radio and we’re in business.”
Kobak brought the device close to his mouth and pressed the talk switch. “General Kordus, this is Prince Kobak speaking, do you recognize my voice?”
A few seconds passed before Kobak responded. “Yes, I do. Where are you?”
“I’m in the basement of one of the houses on the hill. My sister’s been badly injured. I’m tired of running and want to trade my life for hers.”
“A wise decision.”
“General, I won’t give you my life unless you promise to help my sister and let her live out the rest of her life under your protection.”
“I agree to both of your terms. You have my word that your sister will be looked after and that no harm will ever befall her.”
“Then we have a deal.”
“Where are you?”
“I’m not sure. It’s dark in here. I took cover just before the missiles began falling among the buildings.”
“Not to worry, we will find you. Kordus, out.”
“He’s predictable. I’ll give him that,” said Sheridan.
Katin gave her brother a long hug. “Okay, little brother, time to hide. No matter what happens, you must listen to Tarina.”
“I will, and good luck to you, sister,” replied Kobak.
Sheridan and Tarina exchanged a glance that said more than any words ever could. Both knew the coming fight was going to be to the death. It was better to leave what was unsaid until they were alone again. Sheridan watched Tarina and the prince leave and closed his eyes for a moment while he said a silent prayer.
“Enemy come,” said Kyrran, pointing down into the valley with his spear.
Sheridan turned and crawled through the brush until he could see the lead Chosen company break out of the trees and advance through the valley. One platoon was in the lead with the other two slightly behind it, forming a triangle.
“Game on,” said Sheridan to himself.
Chapter 38
The radios in the TOC still functioning burst to life as comms traffic flooded in from the Chosen battle group.
Cole sat and listened to the calls for mortar fire to cover the lead company’s advance, knowing their pleas fell on deaf ears.
The Kurgan captain sitting across from him fumed and tugged at his restraints. He stopped when a warrior poked him in the ribs with the tip of his spear.
Cole’s young counterpart ran into the command post and anxiously gestured with his spear to the door. Cole got up to see what the problem was. He walked outside and looked around. As far as he could tell there was nothing wrong. The warrior tapped Cole’s arm and pointed at the city. Cole brought up a pair of binos to his eyes and focused them on the main street leading into the still-smoking remains of the city. He shook his head when he spotted a platoon of Chosen soldiers being led by a Kurgan officer making their way down the road.
“I guess they’ve rounded up what was left in the city and are coming to say hello,” said Cole.
His young friend shrugged.
“More enemy,” said Cole. “We fight.”
The hunter nodded.
Cole cradled his rifle in his hands. He knew from experience that Chosen soldiers lacked the initiative bred into human soldiers, so he rested his rifle on a tall ammo container and took aim. Cole waited until the officer was two hundred meters away and fired. The Kurgan, struck in the chest, fell to the ground. Cole swore when the soldiers broke down into fire teams under their NCOs and began fire and movement. Unfortunately, someone had trained them well.
He ducked behind the container as the bullets flew thick in his direction. Cole scurried back and took up a new position behind a six-wheeled ATV. He looked through his weapon’s sight and picked any soldier who looked like he knew what he was doing and shot them down.
One man versus almost forty wasn’t going to be enough. The hunters with their spears and blowguns weren’t a viable option either. Cole need to do something dramatic if he was going to slow down the Chosen soldiers. He looked toward the ruined transport ship and spotted the solution to his problem. On the ground in a neat row were a dozen barrels of highly combustible fuel gel used to keep the ship’s perlinium rods from overheating during faster-than-light travel. Cole swung his rifle over and fired his last remaining grenade into the barrels. A split second later, the gel exploded, sending a wall of flame surging across the open field.
Cole got up on one knee and fired a couple bursts into the Chosen soldiers to help them on their way. The soldiers dashed back to avoid the searing wall of flames consuming the dry grass. Within seconds, a black cloud blocked the Chosen from view. Cole’s friend, along with several other warriors, left the TOC and walked over to Cole.
The Chosen NCOs reorganized their men for another push to retake the command post. What they didn’t see was a mob of angry civilians walking out of the city carrying a mix of sharpened farm tools and broken pieces of wood to be used as clubs. After all they had been through, this pitiful band of survivors didn’t care if they lived or died as long as they got to take some of their despised enemies with them.
The smoke from the fire began to dissipate.
It was Cole’s young friend who saw them first. The native hunters sprinted toward the ebbing fire to help their fellow citizens. Cole saw what t
hey were going to do, switched his rifle to fully automatic, and shot along the line of Chosen soldiers, trying to force them to go to ground.
A Chosen soldier looked over his shoulder at the angry horde of locals as they charged the unsuspecting soldiers from behind. He tried to warn his comrades only to be brought down by a blow to the head by an enraged villager. Blow darts and spears thrown through the smoke added to the soldiers’ disorientation. The civilian mob surged over the soldiers, hacking and beating them to death. Blood-soaked farm tools rose and fell until there wasn’t a single Chosen soldier left alive.
Cole’s friend waved to his compatriots and led them in a loud, lusty cheer.
“Sometimes you get what you deserve,” Cole said to himself, changing his empty magazine. Feeling tired and worn, he left his colleagues to celebrate. In the TOC, the Kurgan captain had fallen asleep. Cole suspected the officer would be dead in a matter of hours from blood loss. He listened to the traffic on the radios for few seconds before pulling up a chair next to Wendy’s bed. Her IV was almost empty. Cole now regretted not keeping one of the orderlies alive to watch over Wendy until help arrived. He sat down and took his friend’s hand in his.
He smiled at Wendy and said, “Take it easy, and before you know it, this long and horrible nightmare will be over.”
Fatigue, like an ocean wave, washed over him. Cole fought to keep his eyes open. Without another human to back him up, Cole couldn’t allow himself to fall asleep. He slid his knife from its sheath and placed it under his chin. “Go ahead, you son of a bitch; I dare you to fall on yourself now.”
Chatter on the radios spiked.
Cole shrugged off his tiredness and stood. He walked over to the radio and took a seat. The calls became desperate as the battle group pleaded for mortar support.
The battle had begun.
Chapter 39
“For the love of Lord Kurgan, can this piece of ground get any worse?” bitched Lieutenant Kin, the forward Chosen platoon leader, as he pulled his boot from yet another hole in the ground.
The terrain leading up the hill was deceptive. Instead of a large open space, the ground was littered with boulders, fallen trees, and deep dips in the field—all of which were covered by the thick undergrowth. Kin’s soldiers had long ago lost their formation as they navigated the unforgiving landscape.
“Sir, it’s company headquarters asking why we’re moving so slowly,” said Kin’s radio operator.
Kin looked over his shoulder at his company commander, a hundred meters behind him. “Tell him we’re doing our best, but the ground gets worse the closer we get to the hill.”
“Yes, sir,” responded the soldier.
Kin looked at the hill. Once covered by brush, most of the ground was now a mess of smoldering craters made by the missile strikes. Kin wiped the sweat from his brow and reached for his water bottle. He cursed himself when he realized it was empty. Kin had forgotten to refill it the last time he took a break. He jammed the empty canteen back onto his belt and pushed on.
He could have jumped for joy when he and his men finally stepped out of the field and onto the hill. Although a maze of craters, it was easy to walk through compared to the hellish terrain they had been trudging through. Kin picked up his pace and caught up with his lead squad. They came across broken spears and wooden shields torn asunder during the bombardment. A charred hand sticking out of the ground served as a grim reminder that they were coming up on the position the natives had occupied seconds before the rockets rained down on them. The old ruins were no longer visible. All that was left was a single wall only a meter high to indicate that there once had been a settlement there.
“Sir, battalion headquarters wants to know if we have located the traitor yet,” said the radio operator.
Kin shook his head. Everyone from the battle group commander on down was pushing him to move faster. “Let them know the bombardment flattened all the buildings up here. It’s going to take some time to identify the house the prince is trapped under.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kin looked at his platoon sergeant. “Order the men to spread out and try to find any sign of where Prince Kobak could be hiding.”
His sergeant nodded and passed on the orders to the squad leaders.
Kin kept walking until he was at the top of the hill. He looked down the other side. It was peaceful. The rearward slope had barely been hit during the barrage. Kin turned to leave when he thought he saw something moving. He rushed to bring up his binoculars. Kin focused his binos on a small clump of ferns. He watched the ground for a few seconds before giving up and chastising himself for seeing things that weren’t there. Kin chalked it up to nerves.
Suddenly, a flaming arrow shot skyward from the trees on the eastern side of the field.
Kin’s stomach knotted. He faced his radio operator. “Give me the damned handset.”
Before either man could move, a dozen poisoned darts hit their bodies. Both were dead before they hit the ground.
With a loud cheer, hundreds of warriors who had been hiding in the woods behind the hill jumped to their feet and surged forward like an unstoppable tidal wave, threatening to overwhelm everything in its path.
The rush of adrenaline and fear surging through his body prepared Sheridan for battle. He watched the lead Chosen platoon disappear under the furious assault of the native warriors. Hit as they started to climb the hill, the rest of the enemy company fought and died where they were or fled back toward the main body of troops.
Sheridan looked at Kyrran and nodded.
A couple of seconds later, two flaming arrows flew above the tree line.
Sheridan stood so he could witness the next phase of the struggle. He could feel the building tension in his chest. It was time.
Major Kuhlik brought up his binoculars and cursed. His lead company, struck head-on by hundreds of natives, had all but ceased to exist. Small groups of men fought back-to-back trying to stem the tide of warriors surging all around them only to die under the enemies’ swords and spears.
“Communicator!” screamed Kuhlik.
His radio operator ran to his side. “Yes, sir?”
“Any word from the TOC or mortar platoon?”
“None, sir.”
“Keep trying to see if our ships can reach them. If they have comms with the TOC, ask for immediate fire support.”
“Will do, sir.”
A pair of flaming arrows arced over the top of the trees.
A cold shiver went down Kuhlik’s back. A war cry yelled out by thousands of warriors filled the air. Kuhlik looked at the jungle as hundreds of arrows flew out of the trees, raining down on the men in the open. The bulk of the battle group survived the volley of arrows by diving for cover in the uneven ground.
Kuhlik’s command group was in the middle of the Chosen battalion and too far away for the arrows to hit them. Still, the sight and sound of hundreds of arrows flying through the air made the major feel uncomfortable. The last native volley rained down fire from the heavens. Within seconds, the dry grass caught fire. Without any breeze to move it along, a thick black cloud of smoke soon hung over the battlefield; making it hard for Kuhlik to see his men.
The blare from dozens of horns heralded the next wave of attackers. From the forest lumbered dozens of large domesticated dinosaurs with long horns on their bony frills. Strapped to their backs were rectangular wooden cages from which several warriors hurled their spears or fired their arrows at the shocked Chosen soldiers. Behind the dinosaurs charged thousands of natives, hacking or slashing to death anyone they came across.
Kuhlik watched in horror as the platoons closest to the woods on either side of the clearing buckled under the weight of the enemy onslaught. Desperate to salvage what he could from the growing debacle, he grabbed the unit’s flag out of the hands of the junior officer assigned to carry it and thrust it into the ground at his feet.
“On me!” yelled Kuhlik. “Rally on me.”
Men who had lost the
ir officers saw him standing and ran to Kuhlik’s side. They formed a ring around their commander and fought for their lives. Before long, anyone who could still fight had joined the desperate defense. It was one hundred versus thousands.
Wave after wave of brave warriors threw themselves against the Chosen soldiers only to fall under the automatic gunfire of the highly trained soldiers. Bodies littered the ground. Mounds began to form where the warriors had sold their lives to close with their hated foe.
“Major, we have to get away from here,” said Kordus. His voice didn’t mask the fear he felt.
Kuhlik had all but forgotten about his commanding officer as he fought to keep his men from being massacred. “Sir, we can’t just leave. We have to fight where we are or be destroyed piecemeal if we try to make a run for it.”
A spear thrown by a warrior landed next to Kordus’ feet, making him leap in fright. “Major, I gave you an order. We have to withdraw.”
Kuhlik bit his lip and looked back toward the forest. It was more than five hundred meters away. Already there were swarms of natives moving to block their only avenue of escape. There was no way he could maneuver what was left of his men back to the trees in some semblance of order while fighting off the growing horde of natives at the same time. Kuhlik’s training and experience told him they would have to defeat their enemy and then withdraw under the cover of darkness, if they lasted that long.
“Major, why aren’t we moving?” demanded Kordus.
“Sir, we’re going nowhere until the enemy quits the field,” replied Kuhlik. “If we try to move a single pace from we are right now, we’ll all die.”
“You’re a nothing but a traitor and a coward, Major. I’ll have your head for this.”
Crimson Fire (The Kurgan War Book 8) Page 17
